


5 Senses

by queervampirecollege (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Present Tense, Sherlock Holmes' method of achieving things is a bit overdramatic, but it works - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/queervampirecollege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And there's just the one Sherlock has intended to focus on for a while now...</p>
<p>(Vanilla as fuck)<br/>(So virginal)<br/>(I'm not good at this)</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Senses

**Author's Note:**

> bennyslegs on tumblr requested "sherlock smelling john" to everyone so I tried. But I'm such a shit writer that it veered off in the direction of taste instead. I'll try to do the "extra-credit" in penance for my failure. Also, feel free to point out my errors. God knows there's probably a ton of them.

Five primary senses, and all of them, Sherlock has devoted to John. In this moment, he hears the sound of John breathing, the  _in-out-in-out_ of his calm, constant airflow; he sees the way the mid-afternoon light casts shadows under John's brows and sets his cheekbones alight, how his lips quirk as he scans the magazine in his hands, how his fingers take the page delicately and flips it. Sherlock can feel John, can feel the rough fabric of his jeans under his hand. He's been holding John's knee for a long while now, but John hasn't acknowledged it, which both infuriates and comforts him, because that means John is okay with it, or better yet, enjoying it, and therefore Sherlock can happily continue to touch his knee and feel his blogger's presence. And then... Sherlock takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it filter through him.

John smells of sweat, and soap, and the surgery. He smells like pine trees, and the faintest hint of cologne, and women's shampoo (which is the result of a mailing incident, Sherlock knows, but it's strange to smell pomegranates on him, all the same). John has a very, very good scent. There are other things that filter through - must and wood and the vaguest hint of decaying corpses in the freezer - but ultimately, John is chief among all the scents that fill Sherlock's breaths. 

There is only one sense that Sherlock has yet to fully train on John, and he considers the options. He  _could_ just ask, but that is not a method which Sherlock is very good at implementing, and that aside, it is not particularly  _romantic._ People seem to be under the impression that Sherlock is incapable of sentiment, but that is not entirely true: when faced with a task, Sherlock is single-minded, but when faced with something like this, something so simple and passion-driven, Sherlock would rather have his chosen partner "in the mood." So, with a bit of thought, Sherlock decides for a direct, but still sexually-charged, approach.

Sherlock gently pulls the magazine from John's hands, placing it to the side of the chair. John looks up at him, in askance, and startles when he notices how close Sherlock is to him, now that there is no barrier restricting him from pushing against John's knee to bring his face hovering just before John's.

At this distance, Sherlock can smell John's lunch on him, and the breakfast before that. He can hear John's breath hitch, and see John's eyes flutter down to his parted lips, for just that mere second before the doctor forces them back up. "W-what are you doing?" He whispers hoarsely, and Sherlock's mouth twitches upwards around the corners, involuntarily, before he leans in so that his mouth is ghosting across John's, and replies, "Tasting."

With that, he presses his lips to John's, and leaves them there while John reigns himself in. He can practically feel John settling, acknowledging what's happening, and then he feels two sturdy arms come around his back and shift him upwards into John's lap. Now, he pulls back, pulling on John's lower lip, running his tongue along it. John tastes, upon further experimentation, mostly to do with his tongue and John's tongue inside one another's mouths, like coffee and and biscuits and a sandwich for lunch. He pulls away, and John smiles up at him, before he says, "Now  _what_ was that?"

"A kiss." Even John should know this much.

"Yes, I got that, but  _why_?"  _Really_. Sometimes it hurts how utterly mundane John can be.

"Because I wanted to know  what you tasted like, obviously." Sherlock scoffs, and then he looks down at John. John looks confused... "So, not obvious, then?" He asks, and John gives him a look which answers with,  _'what do you think?'_

Sherlock breathes out a long-suffering sigh, before looking down at his flatmate again. "John, I have been able to hear, see, smell, and touch you for damn near three years now" - he left out those between Reichenbach and his return on purpose - "and if I had gone another day without tasting you I think I might have died from curiosity." 

"Was it what you expected?"

"Well, yes, but that's beside the point."

"Would you like to... do it again, maybe?" John's cheeks seem to redden a bit as he says it. And they seem to  _really_ turn colors when Sherlock responds with:

"Absolutely, yes." 

So they do it again. And again, and again, and again.


End file.
